The Hitcher and The Prince
by EerieAlice
Summary: When, why and how did The Hitcher come to be? (One shot prequel background piece)


**A/N:** I do not own The Mighty Boosh, the series and the characters within belong to Noel Fielding and Julian Barratt. All I own is this story and the characters I created for this. I've always liked The Hitcher, for his characterisation and his appearance. I wish the writers had done more with the character. For example, when I was younger I used to watch Jim Henson's Storyteller, when I saw Noel Fielding performing as The Hitcher; I imagined the character being on something like The Storyteller. As I couldn't hold back my curiosity, I decided to create my own little background story on the character. I listened to alot of gothic music to get the feel of the story to how I saw it in my mind. Bands such as Within Temptation, HIM, System of a Down, Disturbed, Rammstein, Marilyn Manson, Deftones etc. I hope you like my take, this was a very interesting experience, slightly unusual piece to write. Don't forget to leave a comment. Happy reading – EA.

_**The Hitcher and The Prince**_

_**By EerieAlice**_

There once were two kingdoms, in order to strengthen their commandments, they decided to wed their only children to one another. The first kingdom's son and the second kingdom's daughter. There was a celebration on the wedding day, the two communities bonded. The princess anxiously walked up the aisle, her heart filled with delight when she caught sight of her husband. He had thick coal black hair, pale skin, he was beautiful and she was besotted with him.

However, on the wedding night, the princess saw a different side to his beauty. He liked to drink, slander and would burst into uncontrollable fits of rage. She spent her first night in fear. Hoping it was just the celebration playing on his mind, she tried to ignore it but the cruelty continued.

The prince would choose what clothes she would wear, when there were parties at the castle; she was not invited to some. Or if there were, she would be told she had to sit on other side of the room, victim to his calling. One night, a party roared away in the castle. Princess Gabrielle sat in a plain dress the prince had chosen, she knotted her hands together and kept her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Gabi!" the prince shouted.

"Yes my lord?" she answered.

"Get me a drink," he said.

Gabi made it for him as quick as she could.

"I don't need it now," the prince said as he pulled one of the ladies in waiting into the bedroom, the one they shared. Gabi stood rigid to the spot, the tears welled up and she threw the glass which shattered against the wall. That was when she decided to take action.

The mist curled around the trees and the bats sang their night song. Gabi noticed the tent by the river and she pulled her hood from over her head, the night cold caught at her skin. She pulled the flanks of her cloak away from the grass. Then she saw a man standing by the tent, he was small, dressed all in blue, with olive skin and black hair cut to his chin. He stared at her and bowed.

"Princess Gabrielle," he said softly. "My name is Naboo."

She stepped back as a silverback gorilla plodded out of the tent. "Don't be afraid princess, this is my familiar and companion, Bollo."

"Your highness," the gorilla replied.

Gabi swallowed her fear and curtsied. "It's lovely to meet you Bollo."

They beckoned her to enter, when she did, she was attacked with scents she'd never imagined. She sat on the cushion and Naboo sat across from her. "How can I help your your highness?"

"My husband is cruel," she said. "He drinks, he mocks, he spends, he is utterly vile. I want to take revenge on him for all of the cruel things he has done." She then told him the prince's actions.

Naboo listened. "I understand your pain princess, but what I do as a shaman is for the greater good, not for malicious intentions..."

"So you can't help me?" Gabi asked.

Naboo thought and turned to Bollo. "Get me the potion." The gorilla did as his master commanded and brought the formula over to him. "We need your tear to make the spell work princess." Tears was an easy thing to produce especially when it came to her husband. When it was done, Naboo held it up to the light and the formula glowed like lava.

Gabrielle returned to the castle, keeping the potion concealed in her cloak. After dinner, the prince and princess retired to the bedroom. Gabi prepared two glasses; she filled them with red wine as it was the prince's favourite. In one glass, she poured the potion and she watched it glow.

"Here's your wine my lord," Gabi said.

The prince snatched the glass from her and downed the contents in one. He passed it back to her and she watched him.

"What are you looking at?" the prince asked.

"Nothing my lord, are you feeling alright?" she asked.

The prince ignored her and he changed into his night clothes. They both got into bed and the prince faced away from her. Gabi stared at the full moon; she loved the way the light cascaded against her skin. She felt the shudder of the prince's cough; it grew rougher, deeper, more violent. She turned to see the prince staggering out of bed and then he screamed.

Gabi stared in horror at the sight of him, his skin had turned hideously green, his nose and chin had protruded and looked as sharp as a razor. The prince stared at himself in the mirror, instead of his elegant long black locks, white lifeless roots hung around his eyes.

"What have you done to me?!" the prince shouted. He turned to her, fire in his eyes. He paced towards her, grabbing her shoulders and threw her against the wall. Gabi screamed, hitting back as his rough hands latched around her throat. He lifted her off the ground, snagging her gown. Gabi scratched at him, dragging her nails along his face and dug them into his left eye. The prince pulled away, clutching his face as the blood poured from his eye. He wailed, blood curdling screams and he grabbed the sheet from the bed and held it to his face.

"Your highness!" the guards shouted.

"Get out!" Gabi yelled.

The prince ran, holding the sheet to his face and he jumped out of the window falling into the river. He heaved himself out of the river and the rain hailed down on him. The prince wrapped the sheet around him and trudged through the grass and he ran. He ran until his legs buckled underneath him.

The prince pulled the sheet away from his face and he saw his reflection on the surface of the river. He was hideous now. He couldn't see out of his left eye, his eye had now turned into a horrible wound.

"Evening squire," a voice wafted from over the river. The prince looked up to find a grizzly looking man in a long black coat and top hat. He had to have to his attire, no matter what cost. "Blimey, I thought you were a bird."

The prince frowned. "Go away, I'm not having a good evening as you can see."

"What you doin' out in these parts boy?" the grizzly man asked.

He was beginning to grate at the prince, but what he noticed is that he didn't question his bewitched new form. "Taking a break," the prince said. "What about you?"

"I don't fink you would care boy," the grizzly drifter replied.

The prince shrugged and rung out the sheet, squeezing the rain water from the material. He noticed the man's constant gaze on him.

"Heard about the prince boy? "

The prince's heart froze and he looked up at him. "No..."

"He's gone missin." The drifter edged towards him. "You remind me of the prince in fact, what do you think that could be 'bout boy?"

"I don't know..."

The grizzly drifter smiled and from behind his pack, he produced a knife. "I knew it was you boy, looks like that bird of yours got her own back. Good on her, I woulda made it worse for ya." He walked towards him. "In fact I am - I'm gonna cut you up."

The drifter zoomed forwards and slashed his knife. The prince darted to the side and they tumbled into a scuffle, fighting for the knife. The prince punched the drifter who fell back; the prince crawled for the knife and plunged it into the drifter's chest. The drifter staggered and the blood trickled from his lips. The prince pulled the coat off him, yanked off his boots and changed into them. He pushed the corpse into the river and ransacked his box. He pulled out a white bandage and stamped it along his injured eye. He picked up the knife and turned his gaze to the horizon, he stared at the castle and his grasp tightened along the handle of the knife, so much it hurt.

The prince climbed up the walls of the castle, lurching up the stone. He pulled himself up on the ledge and he peered through the bedroom window. Gabrielle slept soundlessly, in her cream white night gown he'd told her she had to wear when she slept. He kicked the window in and Gabi woke up. The prince landed on his feet and he glared at her, the source of his torture. From his pocket, he drew out the knife.

In the darkness, Gabi stared at him; he wore a thick black coat, a top hat, fingerless gloves and knee length boots. She saw the faint shadow of his green skin, he reminded her of a monstrous highway man. The only aspect left of his past self were his eyes.

The prince edged towards her, teasing the knife in his hands, throwing it back and forth. The sounds of his new boots crunched against the carpet. "Call for the guards – and you'll be dead by the time they get here."

Gabi swallowed hard. "Are you going to hurt me my lord?"

The prince sat on the edge of the bed, resting his knife griping hand on her leg. He leaned forwards and he stroked her cheek with his other hand. "I want to know why you did this to me."

"You made me," Gabi said, her eyes drifted to the knife. "You were cruel and neglectful. You were always away drinking, gambling, womanising. I never understood it, you always acted like you hated me." She glanced to the bed. "You've never even kissed me..."

The prince watched her and he glanced to the knife, he let it rest on the cover of the sheet. The prince leaned forwards and he caressed her face. Gabi stared into his eyes, still beautiful from when he was a man. The prince arched his head and pressed his mouth softly against hers. Gabi closed her eyes and she responded, she kissed him back and her fingers curled to the collar of his coat. The kiss deepened, more passionately and she pulled him down with her.

The morning song chimed and the maid carried the breakfast tray for the princess. She knocked on the door, announcing her arrival; strangely there wasn't an answer. The maid called again, still nothing, maybe she didn't hear her. The maid fished the key out from her apron and opened the door. She walked into the bedroom and felt the cold draft; the window had been left open. The maid turned as she saw the princess's night gown on the floor and then she saw the figure in the bed. Her heart dropped, the tray slipped from her hands and she screamed. The princess lay in her bed, her eyes open and her neck streaked with blood.

The same day, the castle and the village learnt about the death of the princess. The funeral took place and the guards carried her glass coffin through the street. She was wearing her wedding dress, jewels in her hair and flowers covered her neck.

Naboo and Bollo paid their respects; the villagers placed packets of flowers and presents by the church. Naboo noticed a figure across from him as the coffin moved through the town. In the crowd, the figure was draped in black, covering his face. The figure's gaze was fixed on the coffin and he noticed the green skin peeking from underneath the material, the same colour of the princess's eyes.

The prince walked along the roads, away from the castle, he couldn't go back there again. Not after what he did. A carriage rode alongside him and the driver turned to him.

"You got anywhere you need to be?" the driver asked. "I can give you a lift if you like."

"Thanks squire," the prince said, changing his tone of voice.

"Hop in," the driver said.

"Thanks pal."

"What shall I call you?" the driver asked.

The unusual creature smiled, a sneaky smile and the driver noticed a keen madness in his eye. "You can call me – The Hitcher."


End file.
